Confetti and compromise
by XxTalented-x-CheesexX
Summary: Malcolm Reese is marrying Maria Cruz, mother of the devil herself. Logan and Dana are forced under the same roof. Arguments and pranks are inevitable, but what else could happen? Dana/Logan D/L


Hey guys, I found this on an old memory stick, and figured it might be fun to start writing it again. It will also give me an excuse to rewatch Zoey 101 :) Hope you like it... D/L as always.

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

"I-I think you'll really like her. She's so pretty and funny and smart. And she can't wait to meet you… I just want you to give her a chance." Malcolm babbled as he nervously paced up and down the corridor of his newly purchased Californian mansion. "You know, smile, introduce yourself, be nice?"

Logan sighed and closed his eyes, almost wincing at how pathetic his dad was being. Seriously, what else was he going to do? Welcome the woman with a dropkick, and pelt her with eggs?

It was his father's third wedding in as many years, and his fifth in total. They had all ended in ugly divorce and been plastered over the front page of every tabloid and celebrity magazine for weeks afterwards. Was it any wonder Logan was less than enthused when he announced the news?

It wasn't like it was going to last. Malcolm Reese couldn't keep it in his pants. He cheated at every given opportunity, and didn't even attempt to cover his tracks, or deny his indiscretions. In other words he was an idiot. Logan had inherited many of the same traits, but at least he had the sense to lie about them.

"I'll be nice." Logan agreed boredly.

"They should be here by now…" Malcolm mumbled, distracting himself by removing his tie and refastening it for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. "How do I look? Do I look ok?"

Logan concealed a smirk as he took in his dad's appearance. He was sweating profusely in his best Italian suit, his new 'hip' haircut looked like the work of an angry lawnmower, and the fake tan was a complete disaster. To top it all off, he'd doused himself in his most expensive aftershave, and the result was eye-wateringly overpowering.

He was trying way too hard. And all for a Cruz woman. Yes shock horror, he was marrying Maria Cruz, mother of the devil herself.

"You look great dad." Logan lied, sounding surprisingly sincere.

It wasn't as if Malcolm even heard his reply, he was too busy doing his best Nicole impression, as he had what looked like a fit after hearing a car pull up outside.

"Oh my god! They're here! They're here! Jess, get you're ass out here!"

Logan's eight-year-old sister wandered into the hall with as much enthusiasm as a tranquillised tortoise, and crossed her arms in annoyance. She was dressed all in pink and her blonde curls were pulled back into pigtails, in an attempt to pass her off as cute, and deflect from the fact that she was actually evil.

"What? I'm missing spongebob."

Malcolm hurled the door open, and his face broke into the widest smile he had ever seen. Logan had to admit, he seemed pretty happy. But then he always did.

"Maria, you look beautiful." he gushed, hugging her, and showing her inside. "This is my son Logan, and my daughter Jessica."

"Nice to meet you." Logan said monotonously, offering her a fake smile.

"You too." She replied, with a hint of a Spanish accent, returning a genuine one.

She seemed nice. But again, they always did. She was a far cry from his dad's usual type. For a start, she wasn't bleach blonde, or tangerine in complexion. Then there was that fact that she wasn't 20 years his junior, or a complete moron.

"Where's our chief bridesmaid?" Malcolm asked excitedly, finally putting his fiancé down.

"Oh she's still sulking in the cab." Maria said, introducing a smirk that was hereditarily familiar.

Logan glanced outside, and sure enough there was a sullen figure, glaring at them through the window of the taxi.

Malcolm hurried outside to help with the enormous amount of luggage, and promptly tripped over his own feet, landing in a heap on the gravelled driveway. As if he didn't look stupid enough.

The cab door opened, and she stepped out. Dana flicked a handful of her tousled dark curls over her shoulder, and carefully surveyed the situation with disdain.

"Mom, there's a dork on my suitcase..."

Logan sniggered, and tried to hide his amusement as his dad quickly picked himself up. Jessica was less subtle, and collapsed into uncensored hysterics.

"Daddy you're such an idiot." She giggled.

"Thanks for that Jess." Malcolm muttered, obviously upset that he'd somehow lost his 'cool dad' status.

Logan had to admit that this was completely out of character; the terrible haircut, opting to wear polyester in July, the whole concept of a fake tan. Malcolm Reese was a big time Hollywood producer. He had been at dinner parties with the likes of Madonna for god's sake. He'd worked on films with Jessica Alba. Not once had he tripped over his own feet and turned into dork of the year.

He had it bad for this woman. That much was obvious. He'd already given erratic spending a whole new meaning. He'd bought a mansion two blocks from PCA without even viewing it first, just so that Logan would have no excuses for missing the wedding. He'd flown Dana in first class from Paris. And he'd bought out every room in the nearest five star hotel so that he could accommodate all of the guests. The word overcompensation was severely lacking.

"Logan, why don't you help Dana take her stuff up to her room. Catch up on old times." Malcolm said.

Logan raised an eyebrow hesitantly. Old times. Like when she practically crippled him by stomping on his foot at the dance. Or maybe when she joined forces with Zoey and Chase to try and frame him for knocking Kazu unconscious and driving him to Mexico. What fun.

He grabbed her first two suitcases obediently, and motioned for Dana to follow him up the first flight of stairs.

"You got the loft room." Logan told her as they reached the final lot of stairs.

The room was amazing. It was a huge open space, filled with natural light from the windows set in the ceiling. It was furnished minimally all in red and white, and a wide screen TV and sound system had been fitted. Logan had his eye on it himself, but Malcolm had picked it out for Dana, and wouldn't budge.

"Yay more stairs…" Dana muttered as she dawdled behind him.

She had the best room in the house, and all she could do was moan.

"Ugh, no sky lights?" she whined when he opened the door.

"Sorry princess." Logan said sarcastically. "You know, it wouldn't have killed you to grab few bags yourself. This is your stuff."

"I don't do lifting." She stated like it was the most stupid suggestion she'd ever heard, and turned around to fix him with an incredulous glare.

Logan glared right back, and got his first good look at her. The word wow barely covered it. She'd always been gorgeous, but three years in Paris had diminished every shadow of a doubt.

She clicked her fingers at him impatiently.

"Come on bag boy, my suitcases won't shift themselves." She snapped with a smirk.

"Yes, your majesty." Logan spat with a pretentious bow.

After a good fifteen minutes of lugging her stuff up three flights of stairs while she sat on the bed examining her nails, and offering the occasional quip, he was finally down to the last few items. In an attempt to save himself another trip he slung the clothing bags over one shoulder, a bag over the other, and balanced one box on top of another. Almost immediately, he lost his grip and one of the boxes went tumbling back down the stairs, and its contents bounced out.

Miraculously unshattered bottles of unopened vodka, sambuka, and whiskey clinked together, and rolled to an incriminating stop at Maria's feet.

Logan's mouth fell open. Dana must have somehow raided customs between flights. Nice.

She ran down the stairs to see what all the noise was about, and stopped behind him.

"It's not mine." She stated immediately.

Maria picked up the bottles two at a time and slammed them harshly on the side table.

"How stupid do you think I am?" she asked calmly.

"I must have picked up the wrong box?" Dana tried again.

"Nice try. Give it to me."

Dana blinked obliviously. "…It?"

"Now!"

She sighed, and pulled the fake ID out of her jeans pocket, and reluctantly handed it to her mother.

"You are so dead." She muttered menacingly to him, before stomping back up the stairs.

Logan turned around to retrieve Dana's dropped possessions and got an eyeful of his dad kissing Dana's mom, tongues and all. This was going to be a long summer…

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><p>Please review, your opinions mean a lot to me :)<p> 


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